


Chains That Bind

by Answrs



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: (of a sorts?), Cave AU, Flashbacks, Gen, Ghost Arthur (Mystery Skulls Animated), IT'S ENTIRELY NON-PURPOSEFUL, Magic-User Vivi, Necromancy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Whump, arthur has a bad time (TM), body control fits more but still not perfect, ghost culture, mind control (kind of?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Answrs/pseuds/Answrs
Summary: It’s still the demon that controls him, takes hold and starts to sink its tendrils into his heart. Lewis turns around to finally see his old friend, twisted and green and looking for all the world like a vengeful wraith before he’sthrownstraight off the ledge.The influence came in through his anchor, a simple amputation isn’t gonna work, is even possible to do this time.Mystery lunges and takes hold of the shattering locket on Arthur’s chest, crunches down on the worst of the infection, andshakes.(ported from tumblr)





	Chains That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> ((edit, the brutally-efficient Mystery thing is almost certainly because of the premise of that one secret!Ghost Arthur thread - edit edit: Twice the Price))
> 
> ((bits and pieces of the accidental!Necromancer au too, though it’s Vivi and more in the spirit (/shot) of the thing anyway. In that she knows it’s necromancy, just not, well, you’ll see.))
> 
> So waaaay back when, I had an odd dream about the original Ghost video (prob inspired by that one theory the song is actually from Arthur’s pov? That was a really cool one I need to go hunt it back down), where Arthur died before the cave and was still following his friends around as a ghost. I think they might not have been able to see him? Or maybe they could, that makes more sense for this but eh, dreams.  
> Anyway he’s still in the back having a low day, he’s worried of them moving on, forgetting him, leaving him behind because they don’t need him, don’t want him around anymore, when they realize he’s a literal dead weight they’re carrying around and finally drop him.

It’s still the demon that controls him, takes hold and starts to sink its tendrils into his heart. Lewis turns around to finally see his old friend, twisted and green and looking for all the world like a vengeful wraith before he’s  _thrown_  straight off the ledge.

(The influence came in through his anchor, a simple amputation isn’t gonna work, is even possible to do this time)

Mystery lunges and takes hold of the shattering locket on Arthur’s chest, crunches down on the worst of the infection, and  _shakes_.

The haunting scream of pure agony and regret snaps Vivi out of her petrified gaze, she tears off down the other path to find one boy gone and the other thrashing and glitching in and out of reality under Mystery’s paw, wailing out and begging, crying for Lewis. And she can only just keep herself from it too, but when the kitsune spats the already half-dissolved soul at her feet she has to  _think_. She can’t lose the blond a second time, not with Lewis so suddenly…  _gone_. She manages a quick seal around the soul disappearing into the ether, enough to buy some time, figure out what’s gone so horribly wrong. Just don’t think about it, about what’s happened, until they’ve found a safe space, she won’t ( _can’t_ ) let her guard down, fall apart in this cave where worse could still be lurking.  
  


Or maybe Vivi flat-out binds Arthur to herself right then and there instead of soon after, the only thing she could think of in her panic to keep him from tearing apart completely. The locket’s almost unrecognisable, seeing Lewis fall and feeling him  _d i e_  had already shattered it, and then Mystery had come and ripped apart whatever was left. The kitsune would save his last human even if it meant giving up the (less important one) the other for dead ((well… re-dead. Complete agonized obliteration? Banished-into-the-screaming-ether? Worse-than-exorcised-into-an-eternity-of-pain-and-void? eh,  _semantics_.))

   
  


If he wasn’t weak before, Arthur can barely hold the energy to even stay  _aware_  anymore, with how badly broken and shattered his anchor is. It’s like trying to carry water in a sieve or smoke in your hands, it just immediately pours out the holes and cracks. Vivi binding him to her essentially gives him a constant IV of energy, but he tries to use as little as possible at first, doesn’t like having to take any away from her, even if he doesn’t have a choice…

And he really has no choice,

_Because he literally doesn’t._

Regardless of what Vivi says, the ( _enslaving_ ) binding spell made Arthur “her’s” now, a servant  _made_ to obey, fully bound to her will, and she feels so  _guilty_  for it. But she doesn’t  _regret_  it, because it means he’s still here with her, he’s not tearing himself apart in whatever comes after, and he’s not wisping aimlessly along as a lost husk of a spirit, nothing more than a quick snack for some opportunistic creature. And that’s the other thing she knows, he can’t move on as long as he’s bound to her, because what kind of spell would create a slave that could just up and disappear themselves from existence? No, even if he  _could_ pass on after what he’d done to Lewis, he wouldn’t be able to.

   
  


She doesn’t know the true extent of her control, though.

  
 

She thinks that’s all that the spell does, that as long as she doesn’t order him around, doesn’t act like the those other,  _bad_  necromancers they’d fought time and time again, ones that had enslaved those helpless spirits, that nothing else has changed. That Arthur is still  _free_ in everything but name.

   
  


**_But that’s not how it works._ **

  
 

It’s not only direct orders, not even just suggestions or requests he has to follow.

Because under the very terms of the curse he’s not bound to her voice, he’s literally bound to her  _will_.

  
 

So she can offer him  _choices_ , yes. Different options,  _say_ he can stay in the van or  _not_ do something, whatever she can think of. But if she hopes,  _wants_ him to come with her, say  _yes_ , agree to continue taking cases, be  _happy_ and  _normal_ again…?

  
 

_He doesn’t actually have a choice, he never did_.

But (and this is  _extremely important!_ ) it’s all subconscious, is the thing. She doesn’t  _know_  he’s not consenting of his own free will, doesn’t  _know_ he’s being forced to follow what she wants, doesn’t  _know_ he’s no longer allowed to appear unhappy to her, to even openly  _mourn_ his best friend’s  _murder_. She’s just so relieved he ‘bounced back’ so quickly from this horrible trauma, that he doesn’t want to stop adventuring, going on cases, putting himself in  _danger_ , that she won’t look this gift horse in the mouth. She doesn’t notice, can’t  _see_ the dull looks, tired eyes, the cringes and silent tears that can only happen when she’s not looking. Because she doesn’t  _want_ to see him unhappy, so he  _can’t_ when she’s around. He  _literally_ can’t let her see it, can’t let her know it’s an  _act_ , that really  _nothing is okay at all_.

   
  


And every time she asks his opinion, offers him choices he  _can’t actually make_ ,  _acts_  like he can  _actually choose something_  other than what  _she_  wants him to, it drives a nail deeper and deeper into his psyche.

   
  


He  _can’t_  tell her.

She doesn’t  _want_ him to hurt.

So he can’t let her know that he  _is_.

   
  


_And besides,_  that traitorous little voice tells him,  _it’s not like it would actually change anything if she knew, just make her feel_ ** _guilty_**.

He’s still scared utterly  _shitless_ of Mystery. And why  _wouldn’t_ he be? It wasn’t just a  _limb_ the kitsune mangled in the cave, he literally _went and ripped his soul apart_. The not-dog gave him up as unsalvageable, had been fully prepared to ( _and did!_ )  _tear him apart at the seams_  to protect a girl he could have just as easily carried away from that wretched cave himself. Even  _if_ Arthur understands the reason, the sheer  _trauma_ from that would be astronomical.

And the best ( _worst_ ) thing is, the kitsune doesn’t have  _one single regret_  about having done it. So the fear is coupled with utter betrayal, how his friend the fox had so easily given up on him (he doesn’t know if there was another way to stop it, realizes how unlikely it  _would_ be for there to have actually been another option…  _but_. The kitsune hadn’t even paused to think, didn’t spare him a glance, and it hurts so, so much). And every day now he becomes that little bit more bitter towards the yokai, for  _damning_ him to this cursed  _slave_ existence and  _not even realizing what was happening!_

But “be normal” means acting like literally  _nothing_ is different, means  _not_ flinching from sudden movements or toothy grins, means  _not_ darting away when the fox curls up in his lap for (not shaky) petting…

(Besides,  _of course_ Arthur would forgive Mystery just like that, he would  _never_ be afraid of their ( _her_ ) demonic protector, they’re all friends here, no problems at all!)

The whole thing’s just a giant clusterfuck all around.

   
  


_(I will vehemently insist here for any addendum later on that they don’t start a relationship. I’m cruel and heartless but even I’m not that sadistic, this is miserable enough without dumping that horrible dub/full-on noncon can of worms on top of it.)_

The mansion plays out rather differently, with Lewis already knowing Arthur is dead, had seen he was very obviously being controlled in the cave, and thinking him lost for good. [1]  
  


 

He still gives chase, but Arthur won’t use any of his powers anymore, even cornered, not if Vivi could be in danger. He refuses to drain her energy to save his own hide. ( _And_ ** _maybe_** , not-so-distantly,  _because he still hopes on some level he can finally die for_ ** _good_** ,  _be freed from this doomed_ ** _farce_** _of an existence. Maybe he hopes if he finally loses_ ** _just enough_** _he can just… wisp away into the nothingness._ )

   
  


Maybe that is what throws the pink ghost for a loop.

Or rather, being a necromancy spell, the dead can see the bonds connecting a ghost to their “owner”.

And it  _horrifies_ Lewis that Vivi would use a curse like that on their  _friend_ , on  _anyone_ for that matter. And, more importantly, _he can’t see Arthur’s heart and that alone absolutely_ ** _terrifies_** _him_. So he can’t  _know_ the sheer damage to the anchor, can’t connect it to her reasoning, (Vivi keeps hold of it now, carries it close at all times. “To keep the bond strong” she says, “close to the source”, but also (more importantly) give her peace of mind he’s still  _there_ , hasn’t disappeared too.) He’s too shocked by the chains woven around the other spirit.

At first when Vivi bound him, to an outside (ghostly) observer the spell would have looked like a simple rope, stretching out from his core and leading back to her. But as time went on, as there were more and more unspoken “rules” on how he had to  _act_ , had to  _speak_ , had to  _be_ , it grew heavier, warping and twisting around him like thorns and ivy. From a ghost, from  _Lewis’s_ perspective now, heavy metal chains branch off from the connection at his center, draping across his torso, curled like shackles around his limbs. There are two loops tight around his neck, a choke collar, keeping him from speaking out, fighting Vivi’s wishes, from even just _telling her the truth_.

Dying, becoming a ghost, it gives one insight into the workings of spirits, an inborn (in-death?) knowledge of sorts. Instincts. Things that don’t translate to words the living can  _really_ understand. It’s like trying to explain an idiom to someone who doesn’t know the language, they maybe get the basic concept and  _think_ they get it, but the other party just ends up frustrated because  _no they don’t they don’t get the significance or subtle cultural undertones or_ \- but they can’t find the words to explain it better. Dying is like suddenly knowing that language as if you’ve spoken it your whole life (and you  _have_ , in a way, as a “newborn” ghost). In most cases until they talk to a human they don’t even realize that, while they still both  _sound_ the same, they’re speaking two  _entirely different languages_. The sensing, seeing,  _knowing-_ the others had thought it just an extension of Arthur’s fears in life, hadn’t heeded his calls or warnings when they were both still alive, and had paid for it each time. Dragging a protesting fully-formed ghost into a powerful vengeance spirit’s territory? Somehow  _far_ from the worst adventure they’d been on since his death.

   
  


For ghosts, there’s a natural instinct (barring certain types, but even then only rarely) to form symbiotic relationships with other spirits- the lonely gathering together, bonding, an easy sharing of pooled energy. A way to keep from losing themselves, to remain stable and whole.

The deadbeats, the paintings, they aren’t  _bound_ to Lewis as much as tenants of the mansion he’s created. They can come and go as they please, and do as they wish. He can  _ask_ them to do things, of course, and they generally agree to. Maybe as friends, maybe as a thanks for hosting them, or even just because “ _eh, sure, why not?_ ”. He’s built the mansion as a refuge for the lost, the weary, for any spirit that needs it, wants to feel safe. They respect that, respect the power he wields, but know, can sense he’s a benevolent spirit at heart, know he’d defend even the  _least_ of them to his second death if he had to. It’s hard-wired into his being, a ghost driven and formed by the need to protect. So they aren’t bound to him, don’t exist under him, no, but they come together, join up and pool themselves with the essence of the house and its guardian.

But humans can’t form connections like that, not really. Not by themselves, not without magic. And why would you give energy to a lesser being if it could just ignore you, turn on you, flee?

They’d  _all_ seen what this spell could,  _would_ do to a ghost, how many criminals had they gone against using the dead as mindless weapons, as  _slaves_? How  _else_ had Vivi remembered, performed the ritual so fast, having watched it so many times before?

And suddenly, Lewis thinks,  _Arthur was being controlled on that ledge. And Arthur is currently bound to the only human left in the group, now that Lewis is dead. The living can’t see the tethers of a bound ghost. A ghost that can be told to act normal, pretend nothing’s changed for years even, until given orders to…_

**No.**   _no no no no_ ** _no_**. Not Vivi… Vivi would  _never_ -

_(would never have used this spell on Arthur)_

_(but she_ **_did_ ** _)_

-wouldn’t want anyone dead, was, no,  _is_  too kind, too friendly to the supernatural for her own good-

_(But if she’s used this curse on their_ **_friend_ ** _, what_ **_else_ ** _might she have done?)_

-had loved them both-

_(Only a spirit’s destruction would break the bond on its own, and Arthur had seemed_ **_very disinclined_ ** _to protect himself just now. Almost_ **_welcoming_ ** _…)_

-would only take the arcane spellbooks for research, to learn protections and reversals, not corrupted magic-

(but did he really know that, if the woman he knew would never hurt their best friend?)

_(did he even know her at all?)_

(had it all just been an  **act**?)

Vivi is moving, searching the house, Lewis can sense it. But she’s going in the wrong direction, and Arthur winces at a sudden jolt from the tether. It hurts,  _aches_ , the further away she gets with his anchor, and it’s even worse for him because he won’t go intangible and fly straight back to her. Because that would take  _energy_. But Arthur always hides the flinches, never lets Vivi know he’s in pain. Even before this spell had control of him he’d cover up his distress, hide it away from his friends, not let them see him hurt…

   
  


…But he’s just so tired now, and Vivi’s not here.

   
  


He knows Lewis can see how taut the chain is, the harsh pull on his  _leash_ , and honestly he’s actually… kind of relieved? Because he doesn’t have to  _pretend_ right now. Lewis is a guardian spirit, attuned to distress, would know he’s just lying anyway. And there’s something about another ghost just  _being_ there, a camaraderie he’s never been able to have, not since the thrice damned cave. ( _Not since the_ ** _curse_** _._ )

   
  


It’s a hardwired instinct, and so much more so for the dead with only their minds to keep- that deepset terror of autonomy being ripped away… It’s what sends ghosts fleeing on sight from their bound brethren. Away from the chains, the poisoned words that would snatch them up, break them too if it were to ever catch them.

   
  


Lewis though. Lewis  _knows_ Arthur. And seeing him in such a state, the slumped shoulders and dull eyes, the  _missing anchor_ \- it makes him freeze, want to-no,  _need_ ,  ** _have_** to help him. Besides, he  _knows_ Vivi, and she wouldn’t hurt him. (right?) She  _must_ know what’s going on, there must be  _some_ possible explanation,  _some_ logical reason to drive their friend to this state…

   
  


So he follows the blond, warps the mansion around them until he sees that familiar blue bob, and stops short. Because he sees the change that comes over Arthur. A change that would look like happy relief if he wasn’t watching the binds snap tight around his limbs, pain barely hidden behind the dull glow of his eyes.

   
  


Vivi ignores the guarded way he greets them, because  _holy shit on a cracker it’s Lewis and she’s missed him so so so impossibly much_. Though when she leaps forward to hug, twist, kiss him silly, prove to herself he’s really  _here_ , it’s impossible  _not_ to see his wary expression, the way he flits back  _just_ out of her reach. It hurts, hurts so much, but there’s countless reasons she can imagine for him not wanting her to touch him, and she somehow manages to back up a respectful few feet.  _Anything_ that would keep him there, to not make him leave, now she knows he’s still around…

She’s just so overwhelmed that he’s there,  _here_ , and she tries to find the words for how relieved she feels and-

   
  


_“Vivi… What did you do to Arthur?”_

   
  


-that. Was not what she was expecting.

   
  


“What are you… Wait, can you sense the connection or something? That’s so cool! I, uh. In the cave, after you…  _fell_ … I didn’t want to, but he was, it was so  _horrible_ , Mystery had, he was being ripped apart, I couldn’t- I had to bind him just to save him, it was the only way! Have you seen his anchor?” She fumbles quickly for her small bag, searching. ”Wait, no, of course you couldn’t have, I have it here, look-” she pulls out what should be a familiar gold, glowing heart. But instead the form is nigh unrecognisable, like a shattered vase badly glued back together, only the faintest pulsing light where there should be a steady glow. “It’s too damaged from what Mystery did, he can’t keep hold of his own energy, has to use mine instead, to keep stable. Er, uh, no! Don’t worry, I don’t use it to  _control_ him or anything. He can do whatever he wants to as long as he stays close by…”

“But it’s fine, Arthur doesn’t mind. Arthur, tell him! - _wait,_ ** _shit_** _!_   _No, sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…_ ”

The loops tighten and Arthur’s smile strains, voice cracking.

“Uhh,,, yeah. It’s okay, I don’t care, honest, it. Doesn’t bother me at all. It’s fine.  _Everything’s fine…_ ”

   
  


Vivi frowns deep at that, such an obvious lie. She  _knows_ he was stressed out more days than not, but she had hoped  _so much_ that he would get better, and he  _seemed_ to have been. And as much as she wishes he wasn’t, she  _knows_ this whole thing must bother him on  _some_ level. But he’s never told her and she hasn’t wanted to force him, wouldn’t use her control to call him out and make the whole unspoken mess even  _worse_.

   
  


She isn’t surprised by the not-so-subtle suspicious looks Lewis is giving her, but they still hurt nonetheless.

   
  


Arthur hasn’t been the only one full of stress these past months, and with every little thing that piles up it’s just gotten bigger and bigger, held back only by her sheer force of will.

And faced with this blatant lie she finally reaches her breaking point, after such a long day, month,  _year_. Too many things have happened today, and she’s been overwhelmed by it all. The blond refuses to meet her eyes when she addresses him, and his obvious avoidance just  _snaps_ the rest of her patience.

   
  


“Arthur, please, I don’t want to do this, I really don’t, but  _stop lying to me_. Tell me the  _truth_ , tell me what’s been going  _on_ with you, tell me how you’re really feeling. You’ve just been so… (aaurgh!) so  _weird_ lately, and I don’t… I just want so much for you to be  _happy_ , and-  _Arthur?_   _Arthur, what’s wrong, what’s happening? Shit, Mystery, what’s going on?_ ”

 

* * *

 

_“stop lying to me.”_

Gold eyes shrink to pinpricks in their sockets. The ghost freezes in fear, then begins to tremble, shake with dread. He can feel the exact moment the new command crosses the bond and meets the others, the old chains suffocating him, keeping him from speaking. He tries to gasp out words,  _must_ answer her question, but it goes against the rest of the orders he’s had, _just had_ ,  ** _still has_** , from the entire past year. _Behappybefinebefriendsbeokaydontbehurtingbe-_  he doesn’t  _need_ to breathe, but he scrabbles at the vice around his neck, desperate for relief as the warped chains begin to  _burn_. Still he  _has_ to talk, her demand the newest in line and thus edging out the long-reinforced rest of them. But then.

_Tell me the truth._

_Be happy._

He isn’t floating, can’t even stand, just collapses to the ground at her feet, a puppet with its strings cut, and still being strangled by the spell.

   
  


Mystery, wide eyed, finally hears Vivi’s question and backs away, ears flat to his head. “He’s trying to speak, but it’s like he’s being choked… Like he’s trying to follow two conflicting demands, but what could possibly..?” He whips himself around to face her, fur bristling. “ _What other orders have you been_ ** _giving_** _him, Vivianne?_ ”

“ _I haven’t given him any! I never… You_ ** _know_** _that!, I’d_ ** _never_** _treat him like that, haven’t told him to do_ ** _anything_** _since that first night. I made sure, always asked things as questions… I don’t_ ** _know_** _what could be hurting him this bad!_ ”

“ _Well obviously you did, otherwise he wouldn’t be-_ ”

“ ** _Mystery, shut the fuck up! And Vivi! Calm down for one goddamn second and negate the fucking order before I rip this curse off of him myself!_** ”

   
  


Lewis has crouched down, is curled over the other ghost, hands hovering over the bindings tearing at the blond’s neck, trying to avoid touching the chains himself. He’s glaring up at them, but the concern is evident on his face, flickering from human to skeletal in his distress.

   
  


“Oh gods Arthur, I-  _damn it, uh, don’t talk! No, shit, wait, you can talk but don’t tell me what I just asked about! …Or I mean, you can if you want to?_ ** _Damn it Lewis I don’t know how the orders work for this_** _! Hell, I don’t even know what the_ ** _contradiction_** _is, how the_ ** _fuck_** _am I supposed to fix it? I-_  uh. Okay. I guess that… worked…”

   
  


Finally free of the chokehold, Arthur collapses, drained and still panicking. After a few seconds the utter  _exhaustion_ wins over and he blacks out, though not without a few muffled whimpers as the rest of the chain gives him a full-body  _squeeze_ in warning at showing pain, for looking hurt, for not acting  _okay_ in front of his dear  _owner_. The already dim lights of his eyes flicker out and he goes still on the floor.

Though still wary of the bindings, Lewis cradles the unconscious ghost, gently lifting him from the floor and carrying him off with little hesitation. He steadily ignores the confused and shellshocked looks the mage and fox are giving Arthur’s previous spot on the floor, gliding quickly down the maze of corridors. Deadbeats and paintings peer out from the walls, concerned by the recent developments of the past hour. They won’t come anywhere  _close_ to the new ghost, not with the curse, but they haven’t seen the usually collected fire spirit in such a state before. [2]

   
  


Lewis has only been gone a few seconds when Vivi’s thoughts catch up to her, and she tears down the hallway after him with Mystery hot at her heels. But his instinct to  _protect keep him safe don’t let him hurt_  has jumbled up the mansion again, and they quickly lose the two in the shifting rooms and halls.

Highly distressed, her best friend was just  _seriously hurt_  because of something she did, she  _has_ to make sure he’s okay,  _right now_ , Lewis and his moving mansion be  _damned_. But the energy of the house is messing with Mystery’s tracking, mucking up her locating spells, and for some reason the spirits moving out the corner of her eye bolt in wide-eyed sheer terror when she tries to call out for their help.

After moving the damaged and drained spirit to one of the many sprawling bedrooms, curled up under the covers of a four poster, he sets a trio of deadbeats and a painting to keep watch over the “sleeping” ghost. Then he phases out the locked door to a pacing Vivi, worried Mystery sitting attentively close by.

Before she can ask,  _demand_ to see her friend, he shuffles them both to a sitting room forming right next door. They flop onto the couch, himself perched floating above one of the ornate purple chairs.

Vivi’s pulled out the shattered heart, running her fingers along the spiderwebbing cracks. It’s even duller than usual, she notes, the glow hardly even lighting her palm. Had it  _always_ been this grey? This broken? She tries to think back to before, when the bond was new, and swears even after the cave it had never looked this, well…  _lifeless_.

She can’t stop the stressed and frustrated tears, doesn’t know how this all went so  _wrong_ , and Mystery hasn’t been any help whatsoever in figuring it out either.

   
  


Lewis sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, a familiar gesture from back when they were all kids and happy and stupid and  _alive_.

“Okay, let’s think for a moment. What are the terms of the cur-  _spell_ you used when you…  _bound_ Arthur to yourself?”

Vivi blinks out of her daze, a bit confused at such a basic question, but answers him nonetheless. “Well, it’s a binding spell that makes a ghost follow a person’s orders. I know that,  _you_ know that.”

“Yes, but what does the spell  _specifically say_ , though? Because  _obviously_ there must be more to it than just that.” His frustration is becoming evident, small wisps fluttering in and out around him, and Mystery shifts a bit on his paws before speaking.

“Well… to translate, best I remember, it goes roughly along the lines of, hmm… ‘ _oh wretched spirit, I bind thee, to my will you are submit, of my wants you will fulfill…_ ’ etcetera etcetera, different syntax and such but that’s the main gist of it at least.”

Vivi’s frown deepens “Okay, yeah, ‘ _you’re mine, so now you have to do what I say._ ’ I still don’t understand why this  _happened_ though. I was so careful to never straight up tell him to do something, always asked him what he wanted, so I don’t…  _Argh!_ ” She throws up her arms in defeat, head falling back to scowl up at the ceiling, slipping a bit down the cushion at the movement.

Mystery meets Lewis’s side-eye with a frown of his own. “I can confirm that, at least when I was around (which was most of it). And she always worded things into questions. Arthur never seemed to be in any obvious distress before this, I was honestly surprised with how quick he rebounded after the…  _incident_. He was doing so well. I’d thought,  _hoped_ we were healing, getting better…”

“I just wished things would go back to normal. I wanted so  _badly_ for him to be happy, and he seemed to-

to-”

Vivi’s eyes go wide in her hands as something clicks, fingers trembling as the rest of her freezes. Her jaw opens and closes a few times like a fish, staring into the distance as the cogs turn that last little bit, and the final pieces click together.

“Oh God-

“I… I  _wished_ he would- oh God oh God what did I do this is my fault how did I not realize it-”

“Vivi, what’s wrong, what did you figure out?” Mystery’s voice is full of confusion and concern, and he pulls closer to the woman in worry. Lewis meanwhile is on edge, he doesn’t know for  _sure_ why the curse has twisted ( _but then, it would have always been twisted, this necromancy business_ ) so much, but he’s more worried right now about what might happen to Arthur if Vivi starts freaking out on the other side of his leash.

Vivi’s warring mind would be a death sentence (oh  _shush_ ) for Arthur right now. With all the conflicting thoughts, desperation for him to be  _okay_ but also then being aware that that’s the  _problem_. But it’s not like she can suddenly stop wanting him to get better, to be happy again! He’s her  _best friend_ , for deity’s sake!

Mystery is kicking himself for not piecing it together sooner. He’s supposed to be the all-knowing wise kitsune here, but he didn’t even  _notice_ … How much of what he thought was healing was an act? How did he not  _realize_? Had Arthur ever even actually forgiven him, when he’d pushed,  _forced_ himself onto the ghost, or had it all been for Vivi? Was this whole mess really  _his fault_?

After much, much discussion and debate and argument, Vivi finally concedes to severing the bond. She’s terrified of what could happen to Arthur when she does, Lewis says he’ll catch him before he even falls but can he absolutely know for sure and  _what if-?_

The three slip quietly into the bedroom, somber expressions on their faces. There’s dismay and grief as the posted spirits freeze at Vivi’s entrance before rocketing through the walls. (Lew might’ve asked them to watch the poor bound ghost, and they’d tentatively agreed, but actually being in the small room with the witch herself?! Nope nuh uh sorry way above their paygrade abort abort bye.)

   
  


Lew is radiating energy in preparation of what he’s going to have to do. So when he grasps Vivi’s shoulder when she flinches at the fleeing guards, she sucks in a breath, chokes, when suddenly a faint, flickering image appears. It travels from the anchor she holds to the unmoving spirit curled tight on the bed, and suddenly she knows why, how,  _what_ let Lewis know just how bad Arthur really had become. It’s infinitely worse than she could have ever imagined. She’d known it was bad to start, how much worse after talking with Lew, but the visceral image of those taut, heavy chains? And knowing she,  _her mind_ , was responsible (however unknowingly) for them existing? If it weren’t for the solid, spectral fingers gripping her shoulder, if a bit tighter than necessary, she’d have fallen to the floor right there.

With high trepidation Vivi backs up behind Lewis and breaks the bond, severing the connection and pulling out the IV Arthur is dependent on. Lewis snatches the desperate tendril before the blond ghost can destabilize, smothers the broken locket in his own aura, Arthur ‘bound’ to his energy now instead. But the key difference here now, is it’s a natural ghost symbiosis instead. Arthur is connected to, drawing from, but not  _beneath_ him.

   
  


Arthur snaps aware as the bond severs, disoriented and flailing and  _terrified_ , not knowing what’s happening, mind a whirlwind of panic and confusion.

   
  


Vivi wants to,  _insists_ she see him once all is said and done, of course. But as she and Mystery enter the doorway proper Arthur darts from the bed and cowers away, shaking and crying, still completely disoriented. He doesn’t want to hurt anymore, doesn’t want to  _pretend_ , and he has no idea what’s going on right now but it  _terrifies_ him. All he knows right now is the drilled-in connection between  _blue_ and  _red_ and  _pain_ and  _fear_. He isn’t coherent enough to notice the chains are breaking, falling away around him as he flickers in distress and confusion and terror. But there’s a warmth, digging its way in, a soft glow settling around his soul like a familiar hug. And then suddenly there’s arms tugging him into a real one. It’s familiar and he can’t place it, but he’s just so exhausted he doesn’t care, can only cling limply as he’s lifted, held tight against the oh-so-familiar chest he buries himself in.

   
  


It’s Mystery that quietly suggests he and Vivi should leave, go home and let the broken ghost…  _adjust_. Recover.

They collect themselves at the entrance, silent tears and tucked tails, looking back at the shivering spirit plastered to Lewis’s side. He looks so small right now, sobs quieted to hiccuped whimpers. As they say their goodbyes he doesn’t object, doesn’t speak, won’t even look at them, just buries his head deeper into the clutched fabric when they speak. And though they understand, it doesn’t make it  _hurt_ any less, pain and guilt mixing in a lethal combination. Lewis at least has his protective drive to alleviate some of the pain, but the sadness in his face at the sight of their now  _thoroughly_ broken family is clear. He rubs his hand over the former-mechanic’s back and shoulders, trying to comfort both the weak spirit and himself, and ignore the devastation that lurks just beyond the closing door…

**Author's Note:**

> [Note 1]
> 
> First off, since in the cave Lewis saw Arthur was being controlled, his “purpose” as a ghost isn't revenge against the scared blond. His last thoughts are something more along the lines of _guilt_ , actually… he already hadn't been able to save Arthur once when his dearest friend had truly _needed_ him, and instead of protecting him like he had _promised_ , he hadn't even _noticed_ the terrified ghost being taken until it was too late for _both_ of them! (And he knows, a possession that complete would be next to impossible to save a spirit from, _if there was even a spirit left to save_ ).
> 
> So no, it's not betrayal, not even Vivi's anguished screams that bring him back. It's the guilt, his failure to _protect_ the ones he loved so dearly, his atonement for failing the _one_ person that needed him most. So his skeletal form still comes about, just now from the need to _defend_ , _scare_ , be _strong_ , to _fight_. Not because of any misdirected anger, unless it's towards himself for breaking that promise he made, swore himself to. But he can't follow that anymore, because Arthur is _gone_ , he's _gone_ and _he's never coming back_. Lewis _knows_ he can't move on, can't fulfill his final purpose, but that need to protect is still there.
> 
> Honestly, until the van showed up that night, he hadn't actually known Arthur even still _existed_. He couldn't bear the thought of going home just to learn that _thing_ had killed Vivi too. So up to this point his drive has been channeled to building a safe haven for wandering spirits, protecting the wayward inhabitants of his refuge from malicious ghosts and humans alike. (It's why the skulls were called to investigate the house in the first place. Rumors from thrill seekers and newbie hunters about a terrifying skele-ghost haunting there and all, chasing them away.)
> 
> When he sees Arthur he chases, corners him, because is it a trick?? Can it really be him? How?!?
> 
> \----
> 
> [Note 2: Continued from above]  
> Once he’s convinced though, the state Arthur's in triggers lew’s obsession at its very core- the need to protect, help, comfort, keep Him safe, ( _don’t let him be hurt ever again_ ).
> 
> So he doesn’t ignore the living two maliciously, or even out of anger. He’s just too zoned in on Arthur to even really notice what’s going on around them anymore.
> 
> Once Artie’s not in immediate danger he’ll shift back to more normal behavior and concern for the rest (though his only interactions with humans as a ghost so far have been… unsavory, to say the least. Vindictive exorcists don’t really register as much of a threat until you actually _become_ the “monster” they’re trying to destroy. (And _shit_ , how many cases had they taken Arthur on with those people, made him feel this way?) So he would be a touch more wary around the group regardless, knowing they had ( _all_ of them, himself included) done things like that in the past. And while they’d stopped well before the cave there’s still that tiny, niggling little doubt at the back of his skull, questioning their intentions, what they might do. And all that's _without_ the giant neon orange elephant stomping around the room, sirens and flashing lights stuck to its skin with a very particular looking chain...)


End file.
